


Then where are the tourists from the future?

by bluejbird



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 21:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8593801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejbird/pseuds/bluejbird
Summary: Jim Kirk hates time travel. So when a mysterious device spits him and Scotty out on Earth, seventeen years in the past, he leaves his chief engineer to figure out how to get them home, and sets of in search of a young Leonard McCoy.And if he's going to be stuck in the past for now- which might just be Bones's fault in a roundabout way- then Jim at least wants a chance to see who Bones was before life began to break him down.Or: The one where Jim lets jealousy drive him to find out who Bones's college boyfriend is, risks messing up the timeline, and decides it's not cheating to hook up with a younger version of someone you're already in a relationship with.





	

Jim Kirk hates many things. He hates the feeling of not being in control. He hates strawberries, which make his throat itch and, if Bones isn't around to fix him, make breathing exceptionally difficult. He hates his Uncle Frank for reasons he doesn't like to think about. He hates all the paperwork he has to fill in every time there's an incident on board the Enterprise, but not as much as he really fucking hates the all too real worry of losing crew members because of decisions he makes. He also really, really hates time travel.

He doesn't want to sound too much like Spock – when he does that, both Spock and Bones share a look that Jim isn't a part of and can’t read, and he hates that too – but there's something so illogical about even the thought of time travel that it makes  his skin itch more than strawberries do. He's interested in it, of course, in a purely academic, 'isn't it funny how the universe works' way, the way he is about everything they encounter out in the black. It’s that attitude that makes him such a good explorer.

But Jim has always hoped that he'd never, ever have to time travel himself. He has more than enough to worry about in the present without having to wonder if by stepping on a bug he risks a future with dinosaurs roaming around Mars or a world where ice cream was never invented. He knows that time travel is messy and can send ripples through space and time that change futures and destinies. Boy, does he know all about that. More than most people, he imagines. And as curious as he is about the past – and the future for that matter – he's been crossing all his fingers and toes that he'll get to stay right where he is.

That’s why he's majorly pissed off when he touches some odd alien device and finds himself god only knows where and god only knows when. Not that he realises right away what’s happened, of course. He just knows that one minute he's standing in some cavernous room on Xralth-VII wearing uncomfortably formal clothing, and the next he's...somewhere else. The only plus side is that he's not alone.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" Scotty's accent always gets broader when he's angry or confused, and normally Jim would tease him about it. It's the comfortable sort of relationship you can only have with someone who you're grateful to for saving your life, and your ship, on more than one occasion, with someone who is as equally grateful to you for saving their life, and giving them a job that isn't on a godforsaken ice planet and where sandwiches are plentiful.

Jim doesn't answer because he doesn't have one to give. Instead he's taking stock of their surroundings. They're in an alleyway, which is good, because it means no one saw them presumably materialise out of nowhere. The sensation had been akin to a transporter, but with an odd jerk towards the very end that was unpleasant in a sickening sort of way. It hadn’t felt good, and in Jim’s experience when something doesn't feel good, things are probably fucked.

When he mentions this to Scotty, the other man nods in agreement, looking concerned.

"Something's definitely not right," he says, frowning down at the weird device, which has travelled with them. Scotty lifts it to his ear, shakes it, frowns some more, then folds up his legs to sit down on the ground, pulling out a pocket knife as he does so.

With Scotty trying to figure out the why and how of it all, Jim sets out to find the where and, possibly, the when. And he hates that he even has to consider that as a thing to worry about.

There are people walking past the alley, and Jim studies them, unseen for now. Most are humans, although a few humanoid aliens also pass by. When he cranes his neck to look up at the sky, he can see a stretch of blue spotted with cottony patches of white, a single bright sun, and nothing that looks too artificial-atmosphere like. So, location: probably Earth, definitely not the planet they'd been on merely minutes before with its purple-ish green sky and three moons.

It's a good start, at least, to have a vague idea of possible location. Earth. The pang of homesickness that rocks through him at the thought is a surprise. Earth has never really felt like somewhere Jim belonged. Maybe it comes from being born in space. Or maybe because Earth is just the place he was abandoned with an asshole caregiver. Or maybe it’s that his real family, and therefore home, is with him out in space on board the Enterprise.

Jim pulls out his communicator and flips it open.

"Enterprise, this is the Captain, please respond."

There's nothing but silence for a long moment, which tells him either a) the Enterprise is out of range, b) it's been destroyed, which is against the odds considering how many times that's almost happened already and they're due for a reprieve, surely, or c) they're somewhere – sometime maybe – that the Enterprise can't reach.

He's about to flip the communicator closed when a voice interrupts the silence.

"This is Starfleet Command. Please identify yourself."

Relief rushes through him.

"Starfleet, this is Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. We seem to have gotten into a bit of trouble and have lost our ship." He adds a chuckle at the end, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

There's a pause. Then, "Please identify yourself. We have no record of Starfleet officer James T. Kirk."

Well. Shit.

"Uh, are you sure?" Jim asks, ignoring the nervousness that starts to twist through him. "I've been the Captain since 2258 and-"

"Sir, the year is 2247. The Enterprise has been sitting in the Federation Museum for almost 90 years. And this channel is reserved for Starfleet communications only. Misuse of official channels is an offense. Please maintain your current position and a security team will be with you momentarily."

Double shit. Jim doesn't even let himself think too much about the stardate, because fuck time travel. But if they're somehow in the past, it's not going to be easy to return to their own time sitting in the brig at the nearest Starfleet building.

He reaches down and jerks Scotty to his feet.

“We have to move, now, " he says urgently enough that Scotty immediately complies. Jim tosses his comm to the other man.

"Stop these transmitting," Jim orders. He can't risk Starfleet security tracing the signal before they find a way home. There are bound to be enough obstacles in their way – because nothing ever goes simply for them in situations like this – without adding more complications.

It occurs to Jim, as they hustle down the street, looking for a good place to lay low, that Starfleet know their location, but neither he nor Scotty do. So he stops the next person who walks past.

"Silly question," he says, flashing the most charming smile he can manage, under the circumstances. "But where are we?"

The woman stares at him for a moment. "Tucumcari," she says, then when Jim doesn't look any less confused, clarifies, "New Mexico." Then she hurries on her way, giving him a puzzled glance as she goes.

So now Jim knows. They're in Tucumcari, New fucking Mexico, and it's 2347, and he has no idea why.

Scotty manages to easily bypass the security for an abandoned-looking storage unit, and they slip inside. He tosses back Jim's now deactivated comm and then switches his own off.

“What the hell is going on?” Jim demands, and Scotty looks up at him, a little distracted.

“Hmm? Oh, I can't be entirely sure, but I believe this is a portable time travel device.”

“Really?” Jim says, voice laced with sarcasm.

“Yes, Captain,” Scotty says, not picking up on Jim's tone.” Quite a clever wee device and-”

“Can you get us home?”

Scotty blinks up at Jim, then back down at the device. It looks fairly nondescript to Jim, which is why he'd made the mistake of touching it in the first place.

“The energy reserve is depleted. I'll need to figure out a way to charge it, then determine how to activate it, and set the date but...yes, I think it can be done. It'll just take time.”

“Great,” Jim says. “Do it. Anything you need, I'll get it. We need to get back to our ship, and time. 2247...” he trails off with a sigh, rubbing his hands through his hair.

“Seventeen years,” Scotty muses. “I wonder why it sent us back here?”

It's a question Jim ponders himself for the next hour. He leaves Scotty behind, going in search of food, water, and a list of equipment Scotty thinks will be useful. He's grateful now for the ceremonial clothing they'd been made to wear on Xralth-VII. It may not be comfortable, but it's not a Starfleet uniform, which would stick out like a sore thumb, so it's enough to blend in.

What he doesn't have is a ready supply of credits. Jim considers bartering at first, but he has nothing worth trading and working to pay off what they need will take too long. The other option is stealing what they need, which ethically doesn't feel right, taking money from innocent people. That thought gives him an idea. It doesn’t take him long to figure out how to hack into Uncle Frank's account, and grab enough to last a few days...and then some. With anyone else, he'd have felt a wave of guilt, but Frank deserves it.

It makes him think about where the younger version of himself is, right now. He'd be 14, give or take, depending on the exact date. Definitely stuck living with Frank with Mom offworld, living under the illusion that she'd be back at some point and they'd be a family again. This would be about the time that Sam had taken off and not come back. It was a theme young Jim would only just be starting to understand – anyone he cared about left. Simple as that. It had taken more than nine years in Starfleet, and more than five as Captain, to learn that sometimes the people he loved actually loved him enough to stick around.

Now that Jim thinks about it, he remembers Frank's rage at credits disappearing from his account. It hadn't been long after Sam had walked out, and he'd been sure Sam had been the culprit, but had no way to prove it. As always, with no other outlet, Jim had borne the brunt of his anger.

It'd be funny in a very unamusing way, Jim thinks, if he'd been punished then for something he'd do in the future. He can still remember the bruises, and the tiny bit of guilt that had flared inside him when he'd punched in the account access vanishes. He'd done the time, now he'd committed the crime.

Once he has the credits, it doesn't take long to source what he thinks they might need, and everything on Scotty's list.

When he returns to the storage locker, Scotty is bouncing on his heels, clearly eager to tell Jim about his findings.

"Its neural control," he exclaims. “It's ingenious! It takes you back to a time and place of your choosing, through simple mind control."

Jim shakes his head, slowly. “Scotty, I'm pretty sure I wasn't thinking about New Mexico at all when I touched the damn thing. I don't think I've _ever_ thought of New Mexico before.”

Scotty nods seriously. “Me either. I _was_ thinking about how this reminded me of something I'd studied briefly at the academy. I'd be in my third year right about now.” He sounds wistful, possibly for a time before he'd earned Admiral Archer's wrath for disintegrating Porthos.

“Perhaps it's my fault,” Scotty continues, shrugging apologetically. “Although...what were you thinking of, Captain? Perhaps, with two of us touching the device at the same time, our thoughts and memories confused the device, sending us here?”

Jim thinks back, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against the closest wall.

"I was thinking I couldn't wait to get back to the ship, and that the device looked interesting, and that I had a big crew roster to approve and..." Jim feels his cheeks colour. He knows exactly what he was thinking of.

He groans. “Would you say that Tucumcari is about halfway between San Francisco and Atlanta?”

Scotty ponders this for a moment. “Aye, I believe so, Captain. I can check to be certain, but geographically it would make sense.”

“Then I don't think you're entirely to blame,” Jim says, and pointedly ignores Scotty's curious glances, giving no more explanation.

Later, Jim sits in the corner, idly watching Scotty at work, and cursing Bones under his breath. This is all McCoy's fault, and Jim wants to get back to the Enterprise and the proper time, so he can tell the doctor so. If Jim had been thinking about anything else, maybe they wouldn't be here.

~~~

_It had been early in the morning, earlier than they needed to be awake. In a few hours they'd beam down to Xralth-IV, wearing the horrible ceremonial clothing, but for now the bed was comfortable and Bones was warm, solid, and had the mouth of both a god and a demon, the way he used it on Jim._

_“Where'd you learn that?” he'd asked, afterwards, with his heart racing in his ears and fluids drying on his skin. It was a throwaway comment, a rhetorical question. Coming down from the high, it took him longer than it should to recognise the fond, reminiscent look on the other man's face._

_Bones mumbled something, rolling out of bed. His cheeks were flushed, from sex, but also from something Jim couldn't quite put his finger on._

_“What?”_

_“I said I'm going to shower,” Bones had lied, and hurried off to the bathroom before Jim could question him further. Bones was a terrible liar, and Jim could always tell from looking at him. It wasn't the first time Bones had kept something from Jim, and it wouldn't be the last, but normally when Bones didn't want to answer a question, there was annoyance or anger driving his actions. This was different. This was...almost as if it was something pleasant he wanted to keep to himself. Something that was too personal to share with Jim._

_The thought had made Jim squirm uncomfortably. They'd shared so much with each other, over the years. The bad. The good. The downright ugly and terrifying parts of themselves. They'd done this as classmates, as friends, as crewmates, as lovers. It was just what they'd always done, how their relationship had always been. He knew more about Bones than he knew about a single other person in the galaxy, and Bones knew more about Jim than anyone else. Maybe even more than Jim knew about himself._

_So this was something new. And Jim wasn't sure he liked it. Especially because, in context, it meant that Bones had sex related memories with someone who wasn't Jim, that he wasn't prepared to share._

_It had caused a flash of jealousy, strong and consuming, in his heart and in his gut. It was irrational, he knew, to be jealous of whoever had been in Bones's life before Jim had come along. He knew about Jocelyn, of course, and hadn't really thought much beyond that, hadn't thought to question. Not that he had any right to. He'd been around the block so many times that if the Olympics were still a thing, he'd surely earn himself a medal or two. Hell, he'd hooked up with half of their graduating class in the room he and Bones had shared for two years. And Bones had never once given him the slightest indication of jealousy or concern besides running a super in-depth STD check before they'd first gotten together. And Jim had only found that out years later._

_Jim wasn't the kind of guy to dwell on things that were easily solved, so he'd gotten up, followed Bones into the shower and joined him. He'd asked, and cajoled, and nudged and prodded until Bones had given in and told him, between soapy kisses and slippery, grinding heat, about a guy he'd dated in college when he was twenty. Dating was a loose term, Jim had surmised, since it sounded like pretty much all they'd done was stay in and have incredible sex._

_That was great and all, but Jim had needed details. Because his own brain would fill in the gaps otherwise, about this amazing guy who Bones had genuinely cared for and somehow never mentioned until now. And so, as they dressed, as they ate breakfast, as they headed for the transporter room, Jim had wheedled out more information. The other guy was older than Bones had been, although by how much he wouldn't say, and the relationship had lasted only a short time, then he'd never seen the other man again._

_“What was his name?” Jim had asked, and Bones had shaken his head._

_“That, I'm not sharing. But now that you've reminded me, maybe I'll look him up in the database. See what he's doing these days.”_

_He was joking, Jim had known. Trying to get a jealous rise out of him, and it was working._

_Because, goddamit, he was jealous. Incredibly jealous. Jealous of a guy Bones had been with almost two decades earlier, and hadn't seen since. Jealous of a guy who had gotten to do all these things with Bones before he could. And jealous of a guy who had known Bones before he was divorced and bitter, before he would swing rapidly between clingy or distant depending on what shit was being replayed through his head. Jim loved Bones – his Bones, as he was, for all the faults and war wounds. But he couldn't help but wonder what he'd been like back then, when he was just young Leonard McCoy with an unbroken heart._

_Bones had seemed almost gleeful when he'd realised just how twisted up with jealousy Jim was._

_“You know, I think I remember when I first met him. September...nineteenth. I was crossing the quad in front of the library just before lunch and there he was and, well, as they say, the rest was history. He was –”_

_And Jim had kissed him, hard and urgent, in a thankfully quiet corridor, close enough to the transporter room that they risked being caught, but he hadn't cared. He'd felt possessive, as if he needed to remind Bones – and maybe even himself – that he was the one with Bones now. That it was Bones and Jim, and that was enough for them both._

_Voices had interrupted them, and they'd sprung apart. Bones had reached out to run his thumb over Jim's bottom lip. His face had looked tender, and full of love, and Jim didn't need to hear the words to know what Bones wanted to say._

_So, instead, Bones had jostled his shoulder and nudged him towards the transporter room, and said, “It took me weeks before I could walk straight again,” just before Spock appeared and prevented Jim from shooting back more than a warning look._

~~~

It’s not surprising then, that a date so far in the past had been circling inside Jim's brain when he'd reached out and touched the device. Scotty had just happened to reach out at the same time, and somehow, the times and places in their minds had combined, coming up right slap bang in the middle.

Today is the seventeenth. Jim had checked during his food and supplies run. He wonders if there's a particular reason Scotty happened to be thinking of the fifteenth, if his ending up in the middle theory was true. But he doesn't ask, in the hopes that Scotty won't ask him either.

“Well, Captain,” Scotty says eventually. “I have good news and bad news. Which d'you want first?”

“Both,” Jim says, more impatiently than he intends, and Scotty straightens to attention, looking a little apologetic.

“Right, well, I can definitely get it working again. But I need tools and things I don't have access to.”

“Tell me what you need,” Jim says immediately. “I'll get it, somehow.”

“Nae bother, Captain. I know exactly where I can find everything I need. In the lab at the academy.”

“That's great, but we're in New Mexico. And there's already a you in the lab at the academy,” Jim reminds him.

Scotty waves off Jim's comment. “I'll go in after hours, and get what I need. No one ever need know.”

Jim frowns, but nods, considering. “And then how long will it take?”

Scotty hesitates. “I cannae say for sure, but possibly a week. I'll need to take her apart, find a way to recharge the power source – and looking at it, the recharge alone will take a few days – and do some testing before we'll know it's safe.”

Jim nods, pleased to have a plan, even if it's mostly a cross your fingers and hope sort of thing.

“Right,” he says. “First thing in the morning, we'll get you to San Francisco.”

Scotty raises a questioning brow. “You want me to go alone, Captain?”

“I’d just get in your way,” Jim says, smiling for the first time in hours when Scotty doesn't argue. “It's harder for two people to go undetected. Besides, there's some...thing I want to see.”

He thinks of Bones, in college, studying and meeting his mystery man in two days time. And he wants to be there, to see him. To see both of them. To know who is competition is in Bones's memories. It's ridiculous, and completely counterintuitive to what he should be doing, but Jim has never been one to blindly ignore his instincts. And his instincts say to go.

“We need to be very careful,” Scotty reminds him. “We can't change the past too much. Just being here could be changing things.”

“Or,” Jim says, trying to sound more confident than he actually feels, thinking of Frank's credits, “things in our time are the way they are because we were always supposed to end up here.”

“Let's hope so,” Scotty says, and bends back to his work.

~~~

It's surprisingly easy for Scotty to wire their communicators so that they can stay in touch with each other, but won't interfere with any of the main Starfleet comm signals. Jim gets Scotty on the next transport to San Fransisco, under strict orders to keep him informed of progress along the way, including any potential delay, while he waits for the transport to Atlanta later that day.

From the knowing look on Scotty’s face, he has a pretty strong inkling why Jim's going to Atlanta, which is funny, because Jim doesn't fully understand himself.  

Jim and Bones haven't exactly been flaunting their relationship. In fact, as far as Jim knows, the only person on board the Enterprise who knows what they've been doing for the past few years is Spock, and that's only because Bones made Jim tell him. Jim still doesn't quite understand why – his whole life is under the beady eye of Starfleet command, so surely he should be able to keep something to himself  but he'd complied.

But Scotty says nothing, just waves goodbye and tells Jim again not to do anything that might change the timeline. Which Jim finds completely unhelpful. Anything could be changing the timeline, and they won't know until they get back. And really, that's not something he's going to spend too much time worrying about, unless he wants a painful temporal headache.

Jim's about to purchase a ticket for the Atlanta transport when he catches sight of a 'For Sale' sign, out of the corner of his eye.

And it's stupid, but so is his fool mission, which is how he finds himself astride a motorcycle, speeding down the I-40 half an hour later.

Jim loves space. He loves the vastness of it, the possibilities. He loves the thrill of exploration and of the unknown. But he loves this too. The feeling of the wind against his skin, the hum of the engine, the seemingly endless stretch of road ahead of him, landscapes of green and brown and yellow on either side.

He hadn't thought there was much he loved about Earth. It's mostly bad memories, and in a lot of ways, that’s what had drawn him and Bones together. Both escaping a past that was too painful to dwell on. Both finding solace in the need to forget in booze, violence or sex, alternatively desperate to feel something or become numb.

_~~~_

_That was how it had started, when they'd gone from being Jim and Bones, friends and classmates and occasional drinking buddies, to being them ._

_Something innocuous had triggered a memory that made Jim twitchy and anxious. He'd felt it crawling through his veins, making his hands clench into fists._

_It had made sense, at the time, to pick a fight. Two too many beers under his belt had helped lubricate the decision, and perhaps made him face down more than two too many opponents._

_Retreat has never been in Jim's vocabulary, but something had flipped the self-preservation switch in his mind, and he'd managed to slip out of the brawl._

_He'd headed for the safest place he knew. The only place he felt like himself, where it was okay to admit that he'd had to turn tail and run._

_It was late when he overrode the lock on Bones's door. He'd done this before, of course, when he'd needed a place to hide away, or when he'd had to manhandle Bones back to his room after a particularly heavy drinking session. Tonight, he needed patching up. He was pretty sure his nose was broken, and probably a half dozen ribs too. If he was lucky, that would be the extent of it, easy enough to fix without resorting to the infirmary and the inevitable mark on his record._

  
_It was late enough that he'd expected Bones to be asleep. Instead, he was sitting on the sofa, staring at nothing. His head had swivelled up as Jim stepped through the door._

_Jim had braced himself for the too familiar ear bashing he'd been expecting. He'd expected to hear that he was brash and foolish and reckless. In some ways, he was almost looking forward to it. There was always something comforting about Bones's lectures, like a pleasant reminder that someone cared enough about him to tell him not to be a fuck up._

_But Bones had said nothing. He'd simply turned his attention back to the glass in front of him._

_As Jim had approached – limping perhaps more than was necessary because he wanted Bones to be concerned, dammit – he spotted the half empty bottle of bourbon on the table, alongside the PADD._

_“She's not letting me see her,” Bones had said, tossing back the contents of his glass and reaching out to pour another one._

_Jim had let him, then had taken the bottle from his hands, moving it out of reach._

_“Your daughter?”_

_Bones had nodded. “Says that they're going away for the holidays, so my visitation is postponed and she'll let me know when we can rearrange.”_

_Jim had sighed and sat down on the sofa beside his friend, wincing as he'd jostled his cracked ribs._

_“I'm sorry, Bones,” he'd said, wondering why life had dealt them both such a crap hand. He'd slid his unbruised hand up the other man's back, up to the base of Bones's neck. It was meant to be comforting, but Bones had turned to him in surprise, as if only noticing Jim for the first time._

_“What the hell happened to you?” Bones had demanded, gesturing at Jim's face. Jim had wiped at his nose with the back of his sleeve, noting that the blood was almost dried._

_Bones had sighed. Patching Jim up was not a new or unusual experience. “I'll get my medkit.”_

_He'd looked so tired, so damn bone weary, that Jim's hand had tightened against Bones's skin, holding him in place._

_“Wait. I'm okay. You should...fuck, Bones. I'm sorry.”_

_Jim hadn't really stopped to think, had just tugged Bones towards him, until their foreheads clunked gently together, until they shared the same breath, the sour note of beer, the sharp tang of bourbon and, underneath it all, the coppery scent of Jim's blood._

_Bones had looked at him, eyes dark and desperate, and Jim had done the only thing that had made sense. He'd kissed him._

_Bones made a surprised noise, muffled as their lips pressed closer together. But he hadn't pulled away. His hand fell against Jim's thigh for the briefest moment, then came up to rest on his face, thankfully avoiding the bruise that was spreading there._

_It was the sort of kiss that, as soon as it had begun, Jim wondered why they hadn't done it before. It felt right, when everything else in their lives felt so wrong, so twisted in a way that couldn't be fixed. But this. This was the part of Jim that had been missing, he just hadn't known it._

_Judging by the satisfied noises Bones was making, he'd felt the same. And when he'd pressed against Jim, pushing him backwards on the sofa, Jim knew it had been the right thing to do._

_And then his ribs had protested, he'd cried out and the warm weight of Bones was gone, his friend immediately replaced by his doctor, frowning at him._

_“Jesus, Jim, what the hell did you do to yourself?”_

_Jim had tried to protest, because, damn, he wanted to kiss Bones again, to press and grind up against him and finally do what they probably should have been doing for months already. But Bones was already fetching his medkit, already glaring at Jim's obviously broken nose._

_He'd set it, quickly, before Jim could protest, the pain distracting Jim from the hypospray pressed to his neck. And then he'd grabbed the hem of Jim's shirt and eased it up, baring his chest._

_“Trying to get past second base on the first night, Bones?” Jim had said, trying to ease the moment by making a joke. But Bones's mouth had stayed in a set line, no hint of a smile._

_“Tell me exactly what happened,” he'd ordered, waving a tricorder about, and Jim had hesitantly launched into a full blow by blow as Bones scanned him. He'd gotten into the story too, embellishing a few parts that made Bones roll his eyes doubtfully. But eventually he'd been checked for severe wounds, and an osteoregenerator applied to his ribs. They'd both sobered up quickly, Jim from the kiss that still made his lips tingle, and Bones from, Jim guessed, the adrenaline of slipping into doctor mode._

_“You're an idiot,” Bones had said, looping Jim's arm around his neck and lifting him from the sofa. For a moment Jim had worried that things were more serious than he'd thought, and Bones was taking him to the infirmary, but then he'd been slowly lowered onto Bones's bed._

_“Why Bones, if you wanted to get me into bed, all you needed to do was ask.”_

_Bones had rolled his eyes, and Jim had wondered if Bones knew the reason he was joking was to try and feel out exactly what Bones thought of the whole situation – the kissing part, not the Jim getting injured part – now that he wasn't anywhere near as drunk._

_“You're an idiot,” Bones had repeated, and bent to pull off Jim's boots. “You are not to move a muscle, do you hear me? Those ribs need at least four more hours until they're healed enough for you to even think about getting out of bed.”_

_Jim raised one hand to salute. “Yes, sir,” he'd said, disappointed that Bones wasn't going to address the kiss. He felt like if they didn't mention it now, they never would again, and it would just be a thing that happened that neither of them spoke about. And, truth be told, he was in too much pain, and too much of a coward, to bring it up himself._

_Jim had watched as Bones glanced back towards the sofa, then down at Jim. He'd sighed, toed off his own boots, and crawled onto the bed beside him. Their thighs touched, and it was comforting for a moment, then Bones shifted, rolling on his side to look at Jim._

_“Have I mentioned you're an idiot?” he'd said, and before Jim could even open his mouth to respond, he'd leaned in and pressed his mouth against Jim's, until Jim's lips had curved into a grin and he'd kissed back._

_They'd fallen asleep, and when Jim woke up, Bones was watching him, with a far too open expression on his face. In that look was everything Jim had needed to know, that when Bones looked at Jim, he saw something that made his heart ache and his gaze soften._

_When Bones had caught Jim looking back, he'd blushed – an actual goddamn blush that under any other circumstances would have left Jim gobsmacked with months of potential teasing material – and then slid his gruff doctor mask firmly into place._

_“Can I move yet?” Jim had asked. “Or am I still under orders?”_

_Bones had smiled and reached out to touch Jim's rib cage gently. “Your ribs are healed, although they'll be a bit sore for a few days. And your nose is back where it should be, so your vanity can remain intact. But, no, I think maybe you should be very careful not to move a muscle for the next, oh, hour or so.”_

_Jim had frowned in confusion until Bones's hand had slid down his chest to unbutton his pants and slip inside. And that was when Jim had learned that Bones's hands, which had always been so skilled at patching him up, were also very skilled at other things._

_So that’s how it had started. Booze and violence and sex. All mixed up with love. Jim hadn't looked back, had no cause for regret, hadn't wanted anything else, and he’s fairly sure Bones feels the same._

~~~

Jim makes it as far as Tupelo that night. He finds a cheap room in a shitty motel, and grabs a greasy cheeseburger for his evening meal. He eats it with relish, because it's delicious, and also because he knows that if Bones were there, he'd be scolding Jim about saturated fats and salt content. But it's good to have Earth food that doesn't come from a replicator, and the ketchup tastes more like tomatoes than the tomatoes they grow in hydroponics, and he swipes up every drop with the last of his fries.

He considers finding a bar, just for something to do, but decides to stay in and watch the holoscreen instead. He flicks through the channels until he finds a show he'd loved as a kid, and falls asleep watching it.

The next morning, Jim gets up early and makes his way to Atlanta. It's the nineteenth, and assuming that Bones hadn't said that date just to fuck with him, in a few short hours Bones would be having his little meet-cute with the amazing-in-bed guy who'd taught him everything he knew. Hell, he'd taught Bones things that Jim hadn't known about until his eyes had been rolling back in his skull, begging for more.

On the way into Atlanta, Jim comes up with a plan. It's not much of a plan, but there's not much of a reason for him to be there anyway, and he's won battles on shakier strategies. His plan is to get to the quad outside the library well before lunch and stake out a good viewing spot, where he'll be able to see Bones make his way out of the library. And then get a good look at the guy who fucked his Bones before he did. It's childish and jealous and embarrassing that he's even considering this, but some weird, twisted part of him needs to see. At that point, the plan falls down a little – probably hit up a bar and drink away the jealousy, remembering only enough to tease Bones about it when he finally gets back to the Enterprise.

But as is typical, Jim's plan doesn't work out the way he wants. On campus, he parks his bike and follows the directions of a pleasant young sophomore to the library quad. He's later than he'd planned, thanks to roadworks, which probably shouldn't be such an issue in the 23rd century, and GPS, which sent him around in circles more than once. Jim does vaguely wonder if it's the universe's way of telling him to not do this, to back off, to turn around and head out to San Francisco to check on Scotty. But Jim doesn't like it when the universe tells him what to do, so he just hurries across the quad.

The chrono on the old clock tower tells him it's well past noon, which is when Bones would normally be heading for lunch. It had driven Jim crazy at the academy, that Bones would want to eat so early, but he'd always gone along with it since he knew Bones often skipped breakfast in favour of imbibing more coffee than one human should be able to drink. His Bones is a creature of habit in so many ways, and Jim just hopes that dependability extends back to Bones’s younger self.

With no sign of Bones, Jim starts scanning the quad, instead trying to figure out who the mystery man might be. There's an Orion sitting under a tree, pretending to read a book but actually checking out everyone who walks past, including Jim. Jim feels his gaze rake down his body, and, well, Bones's mystery guy being an Orion would actually make a lot of sense, considering all the things Bones knows how to do that completely enthral Jim.

Keeping one eye on the Orion, Jim scouts the rest of the quad, looking for other potential candidates, as well as somewhere safe to sit. He spots a human that he thinks he recognises – an astrophysicist from one of the labs on board the Enterprise, maybe, and if the guy Bones had been talking about is on board the ship, Jim thinks he might go crazy from jealousy. He moves closer to get a better look and walks straight into someone.

Hot coffee splashes to the ground, splattering Jim's pants, and he opens his mouth to simultaneously apologise and complain, but finds himself unable to speak.

“Dammit!”

The man is gazing down at the spilled coffee in dismay, trying to juggle an armful of PADDs. His mouth is pulled into a frown, eyebrows drawn together, dark hair mussed in a way that Jim knows is because he's been trying to concentrate on something and runs his hands through his hair whenever he gets distracted.

Bones.

Jim's pretty sure he's forgotten how to breathe for a moment. This is definitely not part of the plan.

“Sorry,” Jim manages to spit out, and Bones lifts his eyes, scowling at him.

“You should be,” Bones says. “That coffee cost an obscene amount of credits. It was the only thing keeping me going through my afternoon classes.”

“I'll buy you another one,” Jim says, before he can really think about it, eager to wipe the scowl off Bones's face and see a familiar smile instead.

“Well,” says Bones, grudgingly. “That's the least you can do.” He turns and starts walking away.

Jim stares at him. He looks so similar, and yet so different. Younger, obviously, but it's more than that. It takes him a moment or two to realise that this Bones's upright stature isn't from Academy training, but from genuine confidence that pulls his shoulders back. As if he believes he's where he belongs. It's something Jim has never seen in Bones before. All of the complaints about space are more of a bluff to hide the fact that Bones doesn't always think he deserves the life that he's living, which often makes Jim's heart ache. But this Bones is confident and there's almost a spring in his step.

He's grateful to have seen this, even if Bones is walking away from him, and he knows he probably has a sappy grin on his face when Bones stops and turns to look his way.

“Well?” he demands. “Aren't you coming? The coffee shop is this way.”

Jim recognises an order from his doctor when he hears it – although, god, Bones won't even be a doctor for a handful more years, and this is so weird and trippy that Jim feels like he's in a falling turbolift with the artificial gravity malfunctioning – so he hurries to catch up.

“The name’s McCoy,” Bones says. “Leonard McCoy. But if you're really going to buy me coffee, you can call me Len.”

“Len,” Jim says, the word feeling alien on his tongue. He doesn't think he's ever called Bones that – it's always been Bones, or Dr McCoy, or, on a diplomatic mission or two, Leonard. But never Len. It's no Bones, but it suits this kid. “Nice to meet you.”

Len casts Jim a look. “Customarily, when someone introduces themselves, it's only polite to reciprocate.” There's a saltiness to his tone which is achingly familiar and foreign at the same time.

Jim huffs out a laugh. “James,” he starts, then catches himself. Using his real name probably isn't a good idea, but it's too late now. So he follows Len's lead, giving a diminutive nickname. “I mean, Jamie. Jamie Davies.”

The last name rolls off his tongue before he can stop it, and he suppresses the grimace. It's not a name he has fond memories of. His mother's maiden name. The name she shares with Frank, which is probably why it’s close to the surface of his mind, being here in this time, knowing that Frank is out there somewhere inflicting damage to his body, and his psyche.

“Well, Jamie,” Len says, and it feels weird hearing the wrong name coming out of Bones's mouth, even though Jim is trying to remind himself that this isn't actually Bones, not yet at least. “I hope you've got enough credits on you, because I've got expensive taste in coffee.”

“Somehow,” Jim says, “that doesn't surprise me one bit,” and he's rewarded with an eyeroll and the tiniest of smiles.

Ten minutes later they're sitting in an out of the way cafe, Len humming happily as he gulps down the biggest cup of coffee Jim has ever seen. Jim sips his own much smaller beverage, and tries not to stare at the other man too much. It's hard because he sees his Bones in every movement, like an echo. It's different enough to be off-putting and a distraction. He wonders if Ambassador Spock had felt something similar when they'd met in that ice cave on Delta Vega – to know someone so well, and yet to see a different, younger version of them, close but not quite the same.

As a distraction, he picks up one of Len's PADDs and squints at it.

“Physiology?” he asks, and Len nods.

“I'm pre-med,” he explains, putting down his cup long enough to take the PADD back, as if he thinks Jim will break it. Which is what Bones does to Jim in his own time, too. “Gonna be a doctor, just like my father.”

This is something Jim knows, of course, but he lets Len talk about why he wants to study medicine, what he hopes to do. He sketches out a lengthy plan for the future, which notably doesn't include space in any way at all, and then stops abruptly, as if realising he's been talking for twenty minutes without Jim doing more than nod and make encouraging noises.

“What about you?” he says, fixing Jim with a curious look. “You're a lot older than me, if I had to guess, so you're probably not a student.”

Jim resists the urge to point out that he's actually six years younger, thank-you-very-much, something that he does back home just often enough to get under Bones's skin when he's being ridiculous about something. Instead he regrets not using the last half hour to come up with a cover story, instead of listening to things that he already knows. But it had been fascinating to sit across from Len, hear him talk about the past as the present, hear him talk about a future that Jim knows will veer off unexpectedly but, Jim thinks at least, much more happily.

“I'd guess you're faculty,” Len continues, and Jim seizes on that and nods.

“Yes,” he says. “I'm a professor here.”

“I haven't seen you before.”

Jim casts around for a subject that he knows Len definitely wouldn't have studied. “I teach stellar cartography,” he says, and immediately Len pulls a face.

“One of those space guys, huh?” he asks. “How come you're here rather than at Starfleet?”

Jim shrugs. “I prefer to keep my feet on terra firma,” he lies through his teeth, smiling when Len grins at him.

“Amen to that,” he says, reaching out his coffee cup to clink it against Jim's. “So, tell me all about the fascinating world of star maps, then.”

It's been awhile since Jim took any stellar cartography classes at the academy, but thankfully captaining a spaceship means he's actually been to enough places that he can bullshit a lengthy response.

He expects Len's eyes to glaze over like they always do when Jim and Spock talk too much about 'space stuff', or worse, get that haunted look Bones always gets whenever his brain steers him down a path of thinking about just how big the universe is. Instead, Len's eyes are focused on his face, listening carefully to everything Jim says.

It's a brand new experience, and one that Jim both enjoys – because having Leonard H. McCoy's rapt attention is one of Jim's most favourite things in the whole universe – and finds uncomfortable. It makes him worry about just how much Bones had been broken along the path between this time and the one where he is hopefully anxiously awaiting Jim's return.

When Jim finishes rambling, Len fixes him with a gaze and says, “You must know all about constellations then, right?”

Jim starts to get a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. Because he knows that look. He knows it well because it's a look that makes him wrap up senior crew meetings quickly. It's a look that makes him bid a hasty goodnight to alien princesses. It's a look that makes him decide not to do something perhaps a little more reckless than usual.

So when he nods, and Len grins, he knows what Len is going to say before he even says it.

“Maybe you could explain them to me sometime. Like tonight? I've always wanted to know more about them.”

There's something predatory in Len's eyes, a look that Jim gets to see whenever Bones wants Jim's undivided attention for a night that will mostly be spent in bed. There's something hopeful there too, something shy, something that might break if Jim says no.

He says yes. And before he knows it Len is writing his room number and hall name on a paper napkin, sliding it across the table with a pleased smile.

“I should get to class,” Len says, standing up and gathering his PADDs to his chest. “I've already missed one. But I'll see you tonight. At eight, right?”

“I'll be there,” Jim says, and Len hurries away. Jim glances at his chrono, surprised by how much time has passed. It's after two already and...

Fuck.

 _Don't do anything that might fuck up the future._ Jim hears Scotty's words echoing in his head from two days earlier. He'd rolled his eyes, because all he'd planned to do was observe and then leave.

But now everything’s changed. Bones – Len, Jim corrects himself quickly – hadn't met his mysterious guy on the quad. Which meant he wouldn't be having a week of life-altering sex, learning techniques that he'd later use on Jim.

Who knew what this would mean, or how the changes would ripple through to the future. Perhaps now, when Jim goes to Bones and they finally kiss, Bones won’t wrap his fingers around him in just the perfect way to make Jim squirm and beg for more. Perhaps now they'll never do more than kiss, and the future Jim will return to will be one where he and Bones aren’t together.

Maybe now Bones won’t meet Jocelyn and get married. Or they'll stay married and Jim will never meet Bones on that transport to the academy. Perhaps...

There are too many variables. Jim's heart thuds too loudly in his chest, coffee churning angrily in his stomach.

Perhaps, he thinks, Bones had gotten the date wrong. Perhaps he meets his mystery man tomorrow or the day after, or next month. Or next year. Perhaps nothing has changed, and Jim hasn’t changed it.

It's a stupid thing to pin his hopes on, but Jim goes with it. He has to.

And he has to leave. He can't see Len again tonight. He'll get back on his bike and get out of town and pretend this never happened.

Jim means it. He truly does.

Which doesn't explain why, at 2000 hours, he's sitting on his bike outside Len's dormitory, arguing with himself.

The right thing to do, he knows, is to ride away and not look back. But then he thinks about Len, about the hope in his eyes, the happiness when Jim had said yes. He doesn't ever want to be someone who causes Leonard McCoy even a minute amount of pain. It’s bad enough that every time he gets injured on an away mission he has to see the way Bones very carefully does not flinch, no matter how much he wants to, how worried he is.. So if he can help it, he won't hurt him.

He'll just be careful. He'll go up, say hi, point out a constellation or two, and then say he's leaving town and that'll be that.

At least fifteen minutes have passed by the time he works up the nerve to go inside, and when the door to Len's room slides open, the younger man is wearing an expression that's a mix of annoyance and relief.

“You're late.”

Jim smirks at the comment. Normally it's Bones who keeps him waiting, always with a good excuse of a medical emergency, so it's not like Jim can complain. Usually he'll pretend to be mildly annoyed, which either riles Bones into a rant that Jim can cut off with a kiss, or guilts Bones enough that he's eager to wipe the frown off Jim's face.

“Sorry, kid,” he says with an easy smile, stepping inside.

The room is messy, which surprises him. Bones normally likes the room to be kept neat and orderly, huffing and muttering under his breath if Jim so much as leaves a pair of worn socks on the floor.

Len catches Jim's expression. “My roommate,” he explains. “I hate living with a slob, but we were assigned together, so...” he shrugs, then quickly adds, “he's out of town for the next week. The botanists are all on a field trip, so we've got the place to ourselves.”

His words hang heavy in the air and it starts to dawn on Jim that Len may never have had constellation watching in mind. He's about to say something when Len gets a determined look on his face – the kind Bones wears when he's about to go nose to nose with someone who he thinks is going to argue with him – and crosses the room.

He kisses Jim before Jim can do more than lift his hands in surprise.

It's not a good kiss. Not by a long shot. There's too much pressure and their teeth bang together, and Len is moving his head way too quickly. Jim places his hands on Len's shoulders and pushes him away, about to tell him just that, when he sees Len's face.

“Sorry,” Len says, looking away, at anywhere except Jim's face. “I didn't...I thought...”

“Shh,” Jim says, his heart breaking a little at the distraught expression on Len's face. “It's okay, kid. You just caught me by surprise. I didn't realise...”

“What?” Len demands. “You didn't realise that you're gorgeous? That I don't think I've ever set eyes on a man like you before in my life, and likely never will again? That asking someone to go stargazing isn't the oldest trick in the book?”

He's so indignant that it surprises a laugh out of Jim, the kind that shakes his belly. Len watches him, wary at first, then with a smile on his face when he starts to realise that Jim's laugh isn't cruel.

“Look, Jamie,” Len says, and it makes Jim's laugh die on his lips, because he's not Jim Kirk right now, and he'd forgotten that. “I'm sorry if I caught you off guard. I just thought...I mean, I saw the way you looked at me. There was something in that look, and you can't deny it.”

Jim nods, because it's true. He's been missing Bones since he realised where and when they were, and seeing Len has made that ache even stronger.

“I've never done anything like this before,” Len adds. “ _Ever_.” It takes Jim a moment to catch his meaning, and his eyes widen when he catches on.

“Oh,” he says.

Len looks uncomfortable. “So, it's taken a lot of courage to ask you here. To kiss you. But I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. So I'll understand if you want to leave and pretend this never happened.”

It's what Jim should do. It's what Captain James T. Kirk should do. It's what anyone sensible would do.

Instead, he looks at Len. He tries to figure out if it's wrong or weird to be with someone now who'll essentially be his partner, his lover, in just over a decade. He tries to think about what Bones would say if he was here. He tries to think what Spock would say, but shakes off that thought immediately, because all sense of logic and reason seems to go out the window when it comes to temporal paradoxes.

Then Jim decides to stop thinking and start doing. It's a method that's served him well numerous times in the past.

“Fuck it,” he says, and slides his fingers into Len's hair, bringing their mouths together.

Len tries to move too quickly again, but Jim slows him down, using his handhold in Len's hair to control the speed and angle of the kiss. It doesn't take long for Len to pick up on the lesson, and within a few moments he's kissing like he's been doing this his whole life.

“Wow,” Len says, when they pull apart. “That was...”

“You ain't seen nothing yet, kid,” Jim interrupts, flipping them around so that Len's back is against the wall. If they're going to do this, they're going to do it right. And, by the time they're done, maybe Len will have picked up some tips. Maybe, when he meets his mystery man, it won't just be Len who'll be learning new things.

Len gasps out a breath as Jim presses a kiss to his neck, then sinks down to his knees, undoing Len's belt with deft fingers.

“What're you doing?” Len's voice is thick and quiet, full of arousal that Jim can already feel under his palms.

Jim looks up at him, lifting an eyebrow. “You weren't kidding when you said you'd never done this before,” he says. It surprises him. Even though he and Bones had never really talked much about their previous relationships – Bones had said there wasn't enough time between shifts on their five year mission to hear a list of all of Jim's conquests – he'd just assumed that Bones had been like him. Eager to fuck and be fucked as soon as his teenage hormones had begun coursing through his veins. This was new and surprising. And, the viciously jealous part of Jim couldn't help but think, was something that Bones's amazing mystery man could never have. He'd never be the first guy that Bones kissed, or the first guy to blow him. The thought gives Jim a smug sense of satisfaction, and he hasn't even done anything yet.

“I've been busy.” Len's voice is defensive, and Jim maintains eye contact as he finally undoes Len's pants and reaches inside.

“Oh, you will be,” Jim says, and keeps their gazes locked as he slides Len's half-hard cock into his mouth.

~~~

Jim wakes up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, a scent he's starting to associate with this younger version of Bones. Jim's Bones smells like warmth and Kentucky bourbon and the packaging that hypospray capsules come in and something that Jim can never quite place but is wonderfully familiar. But Len's skin smells like coffee and apples and something that Jim's choosing to interpret as youthful hope.

Daylight is coming in through the window, illuminating the messy room. Jim is curled up on one of the single beds, a dent in the pillow reminding him that he'd wrapped his arms around Len as he'd slept, feeling the familiar steady heartbeat beneath his hand. It was almost like being home. Almost.

“You're awake,” Len says, setting a mug of coffee on the bedside table. He sits on the chair by the desk and regards Jim with a mix of satisfaction and wariness.

Jim pushes himself up on his elbows.

“Hi,” he says, then reaches for the coffee to avoid making conversation. He doesn't even like coffee that much, which might be why Bones doesn't drink it as often as he used to. Or maybe he'd just grown out of needing to stay awake in class, and into the mindset of a doctor, always alert.

“Last night was...” Len stops, searching for the word.

Wrong, Jim thinks. Immoral.

“Amazing,” Len finishes. He looks so damn happy, in a way that Jim can't ever remember Bones looking, that it makes his heart ache in his chest.

“Kid, if you think a few kisses and a blow job are amazing, then all the other things two bodies can do together will blow your mind.” Jim says it without thinking what he's implying. He's thinking about everything he and Bones have done together, how many ways there are to fuck and make love and meld their bodies as closely together as humans can.

Len gives Jim an almost predatory smile. “You got anywhere to be this weekend?”

Jim shakes his head, because it's true, and it isn't until Len reaches out and takes the mug from his hands, setting it out of the way and sitting down on the bed, that he realises what Len is suggesting.

Before Jim protests, Len says, “I didn't get a chance to return the favour,” and then he's worming his way down Jim's body, stroking Jim's cock which reacts embarrassingly quickly.

Remembering the first kiss, Jim braces himself for a not-so-great blow job, one that he'll have to give a tonne of direction on, but it turns out that Len had really been paying attention the night before. He's a quick study – this is something Jim knows, of course, because he's studied beside Bones, worked beside him, seen how quickly he can adapt to the environment around him and how quickly he learns from his mistakes in a way that Jim can’t always match. Apparently that extends to blow jobs too, and when Len tongues the underside of Jim's cock in exactly the same way Bones does, it takes every fibre of his being to not come in the kid's mouth then and there.

He holds on though, fisting his hands in the sheets of Len's bed, arching up his hips against a swirl of tongue, moaning, “yes, right there,” and “left a bit, yes, yes,” more times than he can count.

Afterwards, Len kisses him just like Jim had shown him the previous night, and Jim can taste himself on Len's tongue and fuck, that destroys him every time. He's pretty sure Len can tell, because when Jim moans, Len grins against his mouth and drags his teeth across Jim's bottom lip. And that is something that Jim definitely didn't teach him. That's something so Bones-like that it throws Jim back to the reason he's here, and where he should be instead.

It makes every cell in his body ache, and he turns away, breaking the kiss.

“Did I do something wrong?” Len sounds anxious, and god, so damn young. He's twenty, not much younger than Jim was when he and Bones first met, but there's an innocence there that Jim doesn't think he's ever had. Hell, he hadn't thought Bones had ever been this innocent, either. In his head, Bones has always been cynical and world weary and suspicious. This version of Bones is hard to reconcile with the man Jim knows. The man Jim loves.

“No,” Jim says. “You haven't done anything wrong. It's...”

“You're in love with someone,” Len says. He says it simply, matter of fact. As if loving Bones is simple, when it's not. It's complicated and all encompassing and inside every part of Jim that makes him himself. It's something he can't explain in words.

“Yes,” he says, because it's easiest.

“Where is he?”

Jim smiles at the curiosity in Len's voice. “Somewhere far, far away,” he says, because there's no answer he can give that will really make sense. “Somewhere I can't be.”

Len sits back on his heels and nods, looking down at Jim. “Do you want to stop this?”

Jim looks at him in surprise. He'd assumed that the revelation would make Len back off instantly. Instead, Len looks contemplative.

“I'm not looking for romance,” Len says. “I'm not looking for a relationship. I just want...I want you. This. Unless this is cheating,” he adds, and musses up his hair while he waits for Jim's response.

The gesture is so familiar that it makes Jim ache and smile at the same time.

“No,” Jim says. “It's...it's complicated, but technically, I don't think it's cheating.” He wonders for a moment what Bones would say, if he were here. What he'll say about Jim's reasoning when Jim makes it back to him. He can't imagine Bones doing more than rolling his eyes and muttering 'typical' under his breath, and maybe being slightly embarrassed that Jim has seen a side to him that doesn't exist anymore.

“And do you want to do this?”

Jim looks at Len, and thinks of all of the times he's said no to Bones. There haven't been all that many, and he's not going to say it now either.

“Yes.”

Len doesn't wait for anything beyond that. The word isn't even completely out of Jim's mouth before Len is kissing him, and Jim stops thinking and just does. He kisses Len back, hard and needy, and feels the same need in return.

Len's hands slide across Jim's stomach, pushing up his shirt, urging it over his head. By the time he's finished, Jim is almost completely naked. He feels self conscious and old, in a way he normally doesn't feel. He tries to imagine what he looks like through Len's eyes, feeling first Len's gaze, then Len's hands tracing across his body. There are scars there, faint but present nonetheless, from a dozen near misses.

“Where did you get these?” Len asks, voice soft, concerned. It's the healer in him, Jim recognises, the need to fix what's broken that he so admires in Bones.

Jim shakes his head. “Too many stories to tell,” he says. And none he's able to, without giving away tales of the future, or perhaps worse, tales of his own childhood.

Len narrows his eyes, inspecting the damage. “When I'm a doctor,” he says, “I'll do much better work than this. What ham handed idiot left you like this?”

Jim barks out a laugh that he can't explain, but files the conversation away in his head. If he gets back to his Bones – when he gets back, he corrects – and explains all of this, he'll take great joy in reminding Bones of this moment.

“Come here,” he says, and Len sinks into his arms.

~~~

They spend the weekend in Len's bed, surviving on whatever food he's got stored away in his kitchenette. Len doesn't ask why Jim doesn't have anywhere else to be, and Jim doesn't offer an explanation.

When Len eases inside Jim for the first time, eyes wide with surprise at the sensation, Jim presses his fingertips against Len's hips hard enough to bruise, guiding his speed and depth until it's just how Jim likes it. Len's reaction when Jim comes across both their chests makes Jim cup Len's face in his hands and kiss the astonishment away.

Len immediately wants Jim to fuck him, but Jim resists until the next day. They have time, afterall, and he wants to get to know Len, to hear and witness his youthful perspective on things.

They shower – separately, despite Len's protests – and sit, and eat and talk. They're halfway through a hastily thrown together meal when Len mentions a girl in one of his classes. Jim braces himself before he even says the name.

“Jocelyn's asked me to study with her a few times,” Len mentions around a mouthful of noodles, and Jim takes a huge bite from his own plate to prevent himself from saying something stupid.

It would be easy to say something. To save Bones more than a decade of heartache and misery. Jim knows that if he were to say something, he could eliminate Jocelyn as a potential love interest for Len. He could make her seem unattractive and unsuitable and everything that Jim, personally, thinks and knows her to be for future Bones. And then Bones's heart wouldn't break, wouldn't shatter, wouldn't harden in a way that had taken Jim a long time to thaw out.

He could change Bones's entire destiny, for the better. Erase the hurt and cynicism that he carries as a result of the divorce. Lift some of the burden from his shoulders.

It wouldn't take much. A handful of words. A warning. And then everything would be different. Even if it meant that the future Jim returned to didn't have Bones in it, it might be worth it. He could always track Bones down, wherever in the galaxy he ended up being. He could save Bones from the pain of endless divorce proceedings and visitation agreements and...

And then Jim remembers Joanna. He remembers how much Bones loves her, even though he never gets to see her thanks to Jocelyn's excellent divorce lawyers and Jim dragging him halfway around the galaxy for years on end. He remembers that Bones is proud of her, remembers the joy on his face whenever a communique from Earth comes through with photos of her, drawings that she's made and the occasional video.

He can't erase her. Can't risk Bones never knowing his daughter. He thinks that if he could give Bones a choice, whether to know or not, whether to save himself heartache, he'd always choose a future with Jo in it, whatever hurt he'd have to bear.

Jim swallows his mouthful of food and smiles at Len.

“Sounds like she wants to get to know you better,” he says, and Len looks contemplative for the rest of the meal.

“So,” he says, when they're cleaning up. “This person you're in love with. What are they like?”

Jim takes a moment to think. He's described Bones to so many people in so many ways. To anyone who'll listen, he'll brag about Bones's medical skills, how he has the best CMO in the whole fleet on his ship. To Spock, he'll defend his sharp tongue and emotional outbursts. To his mother, awkward and stilted conversations as always, he describes Bones as family and safety and happiness in a way that makes her face twist with pride and sadness combined. And to Bones, he describes him as his, his alone.

“He makes me feel safe when I shouldn't feel that way. He's my moral compass, makes sure I don't do anything too stupid. He's the voice of reason in my head, telling me I can do whatever it is I need to do. He makes me brave, because I have to be.”

“He sounds...nice.”

Jim chuckles. “He's...a lot like you, actually.”

Len looks surprised, for a moment, then regards Jim seriously. “Is it always like this?”

Jim frowns in confusion.

“When you're...intimate with someone,” Len explains. “I've known you for barely two days, and yet it's like I know you. I've never done any of this before, and I should be nervous, but instead I feel comfortable. Like this is something I was always supposed to do.”

Jim shakes his head. “No,” he says. “It's not like that with everyone.” He remembers far too many one night stands that left him feeling numb. It was what he'd wanted, at the time, what he needed. But it was nothing compared to what he felt when he was with Bones.

“You feel it too, don't you?” Len crowds close to him, spreading his hand across Jim's chest, just above his heart.

Jim nods, and when Len kisses him, it's without the urgency that's been running between them since this whole thing began. This kiss is sweet and gentle and earnest, and Jim sighs into Len's mouth.

~~~

Jim wakes up the next morning to find Len's fingers drifting back and forth across the hair that runs south from his belly button.

“Good morning,” Len says when he realises Jim is awake. He's pressed against Jim, and Jim can feel his hardness nudging against his thigh.

“Fuck, kid, you must run on dilithium batteries,” Jim says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Don't you ever get tired?”

Len smirks. “You've just forgotten what it's like, old man.”

Jim's mouth drops open. It's something he's said to Bones on more than one occasion, even though there's barely six years between them. But right now he's eleven years older than Len, and his back is sore and he's not exactly in the mood. Although he is open to persuasion.

As if reading his thoughts, Len's hand traces along the waistband of the boxers Jim slept in. It's a light touch, tantalising, making the hair on Jim's arms stand on end. And when he thinks he can't stand it anymore, Len's hand slips inside, clever fingers wrapping around Jim's length. It's disturbingly similar to what Bones had done, on that first night together.

He's hard almost immediately, and Len's smirk presses against Jim's jaw.

“Fuck me,” Len begs. “Please. I'm ready. I'm willing.”

Jim pulls away, just for a moment, meeting Len's steady gaze. It's his no-nonsense look, the look that's about to be followed by the bark of “Doctor's orders!” that Jim can't disobey even if he wants to.

So he just nods, and spends longer than strictly necessary prepping Len for what's about to follow. With Len squirming impatiently, Jim's fingers buried inside him, it reminds Jim of the first time he and Bones had done this. He'd been hesitant then, too, until Bones had practically bit off his head.

_“Dammit, Jim. I'm not some blushing virgin bride,” Bones had snapped. “Take your fucking fingers out and replace it with your dick, or I'm going back to my own quarters.”_

_“You've done this before?” Jim had asked in surprise, and Bones had rolled his eyes so hard that Jim had been worried he'd have to call one of the other doctors down from sickbay to retrieve them from the back of his skull, and boy, wouldn't that be an awkward situation to explain._

_“There were other men before you, you know Jim,” Bones had said, and the flare of jealousy that burst inside Jim's chest had been enough motivation to slide his fingers out and line himself up._

_“But none after, right Bones?” Jim had asked, burying himself up to the hilt. He'd chosen to take Bones's guttural moan as agreement._

“Please,” Len moans, and Jim presses a kiss to his mouth before easing in slowly.

Other men before him, Bones had said, and oh how wrong he was. It makes Jim's head spin as he rocks into Len, feeling him clench around him, feeling him relax and take him in further.

“Fuck,” Len sighs. “This is, fuck Jamie, this is amazing.”

Jim's mind had been slipping away, imagining he was with Bones, back home on board the Enterprise. But at the use of his assumed name, it snaps him back to the present. And that's right, he thinks. This isn't Jim and Bones. It's Jamie and Len and if he's going to do this, he should be present in the here and now, and give Len his undivided attention.

As hard as it is, he pushes memories of Bones from his mind, and focuses instead on the way Len's breath hitches, at the sounds he makes, at the way his hips lift to meet each thrust.

~~~

On Monday, Len is apologetic about having to get to class, until he realises Jim probably also has a class to go to. Jim babbles something about not having any teaching hours today, because the weekend has completely wiped his memory of his cover story. Len looks confused, but gives Jim the code to his room, and says he hopes to see him later.

The moment Len is out the door, Jim fishes out his communicator and calls Scotty, who is both distracted and annoyed that it's been almost three days since he heard from him.

“Captain,” Scotty's voice says, bordering on pissy, “I've almost completed full diagnostics on the device, and believe I should have her powered up and ready to go by the end of the week.”

Jim tries to ignore the disappointment that settles in his stomach like a rock. “That's great,” he says, faking enthusiasm. “How are you getting on at Starfleet? Managed to avoid your counterpart?”

There's a very long pause, and Jim thinks for a moment that the connection has dropped, then Scotty responds, sounding...not entirely truthful.

“Um, aye Captain, all's fine here.”

Jim wants to press for more information because, goddammit, he's the Captain and he should be keeping his crew safe, even if it's from themselves, but he's hardly in any position to lecture about appropriate behaviour, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“Alright, Scotty,” he says instead. “Let me know when it's ready to go. I'll need at least a day to get to you, maybe two.”

“Then get ready to pack your bags on Wednesday,” Scotty says as his parting words.

Jim stares at his communicator for a long moment, then puts it away. He doesn't want to dwell on any of this, so instead he spends his time tidying up the small room. Most of the stuff belongs to Len's roommate, so he just orders things as neatly and logically as he can. For Len's things, he puts them where he knows Bones would put them, and hopes that it's the right thing to do.

When Len gets home from classes, Jim isn't sure if he's more surprised by the clean room, or by Jim's presence.

“I didn't expect you to be here,” Len says, not meeting his gaze. He drops a stack of PADDs on his now neat and tidy desk, frowning down at it.

Jim takes a step towards the door. He hadn't even considered that Len might not want him around, after everything that had happened over the weekend. That perhaps giving him the room code was politeness rather than a request to stay.

“I can go,” he says, and Len's head snaps up.

“No,” he says, absently opening his desk drawers and peering inside. “I like that you're here. I just...how did you know that I like to keep my in progress notes in that drawer, but my planned readings in that one?” He gestures at his desk, and Jim shrugs. _That's what you did at the academy,_ doesn't seem an appropriate answer, so he doesn't bother with a response.

“Busy day?” he asks instead, and Len groans and drops into a chair.

“Back-to-back classes,” he says. “I'm exhausted.”

He casts Jim a hopeful look, and Jim takes it as an invitation.

“I was thinking of taking a shower,” Jim says, thumbing towards the bathroom. “Do you maybe want to join me?”

Len doesn't have to be asked twice, and soon hot kisses are mingling with the fall of hot water and Jim puts any thought of Wednesday out of his head.

Tuesday goes mostly the same, except Jim passes the time going out in search of groceries to restock Len's dwindling food reserves, and wandering around the campus. Everyone seems so young and bright eyed, and Jim can't remember ever feeling that way. He'd skipped the whole college experience, and although he'd gone to the academy, of course, it wasn't quite the same. He'd heard Bones talk about college, and the crazy things people would get up to, and he'd never felt jealous before. But now he thinks it seems relaxing and invigorating at the same time. To be focused solely on broadening your education, without wondering if you'd need the information to save the world one day...it sounds like a nice option to have had.

That night, when he and Len are lying together naked, he listens to Len's sleep slow breathing and thinks that this is a life he could get used to.

On Wednesday, the call comes, as expected.

“I've got her working, Captain!” Scotty's voice is full of enthusiasm and pride, and Jim appreciates all of the hard work he must have done. But he can't quite match Scotty's enthusiasm.

“That's great,” Jim says, knowing his voice falls flat at the end. He hopes Scotty doesn't pick up on it, and lets Scotty prattle on about power cells and control panels and other things that he hopes he won't ever have to repeat.

“So,” Scotty says. “We can go tomorrow, if you want.”

It's very clear from Scotty's tone that he wants to go as soon as possible, but will defer to whatever his Captain says. And it's tempting to ask to delay for another day, or two, or maybe a week, or a month, or a year. Technically, Jim thinks, they could stay for years, and still go back to the exact time they left.

He can't ask that of Scotty though, so he says, “Tomorrow evening. I can get to San Francisco by then.” He's already checked that there's a transport that leaves in the morning. He'll have to leave the bike, but it's lived up to its purpose of getting him from Tucumcari to Atlanta.

“Grand job,” says Scotty, and they arrange a specific time and place to meet.

Jim doesn't do anything productive for the rest of the day. Instead, he sits in silence, staring at his hands, leg jiggling to burn off the restless energy he's feeling.

He considers just leaving. Standing up, walking out the door, and never looking back. But he can't do it – not to Len, and not to himself. They both deserve more. So he sits and waits, wondering what he's going to say.

Len bounces in that evening full of energy, with takeout containers balanced in his arms.

“Today has been great,” he says, dropping the containers on a table. “I aced a quiz in chemistry, we got our assignments back for anatomy and I...”

He catches a glimpse of Jim's face and stops talking.

“What's wrong?”

Jim shakes his head slowly. He's still trying to figure out what to say, but Len says it for him.

“You're going back to him.” Len says it simply, as if he's trying to not show emotion, but there's a pang of sadness in there.

It's an easy out, and Jim takes it. It's not untrue, after all.

“Yeah,” he says, but his voice catches. He clears his throat. “I mean, yes. I am. I'm sorry.”

Len sits down at the desk and watches Jim carefully. There's something playing at his lips, and Jim can't tell if it's a smile, or the start of tears.

There was a long moment earlier where he'd considered contacting Scotty and telling him to go on alone. He'd given serious thought to staying, even with all it would mean giving up. The Enterprise, gone. Being Captain, gone. The thrill of space, gone.

But it would be a new life. Here on campus with Len, experiencing the youth he never really had, all the things he'd missed out on, carving out a completely different future. It is incredibly tempting to think he could do whatever he wants, and still not be alone.

Then he thinks of Bones, his Bones, the man Len would grow up to become, and Jim knows he can't risk that man not existing. As tempting as it is to stay here with Len, young and optimistic and without a broken heart, and make something of what is between them, he knows it won't work. The Leonard McCoy he's destined to be with is a man hardened by life, and Jim loves him for it. A man who has reached the point of life experience that he has the exact skills required to reign in James Kirk when needed. A man who has seen enough of life and death to have the compassion to remind his Captain when to feel, when to trust his heart, and when to listen to his head.

“I'm not going to beg you to stay,” Len says, and Jim lets out the breath he'd been holding. If Len had asked, he doesn't know that he'd have been able to say no.

“We knew what this was from the get go,” Len reminds him. “It was...I can't even explain what it was. I thought you'd be a hot guy to get all of these firsts out of the way with, someone I could move on from and forget. And instead, I think we became friends. And in ten years from now, twenty years from now, I think I'll look back and remember this and smile.”

It's so true, that Jim wants to laugh. He hadn't understood at first, of course. Sometimes things were like that, so obvious that you couldn't see them because you were standing so close. Like how he'd never really appreciated the beauty of the planet until he'd first seen it from space. But that afternoon he'd thought about the mystery man from Bones's past he'd been so jealous of. He'd thought about messing up Len’s chances of meeting that man. He'd thought about the scraps of information Bones had told him – an older man who'd appeared in his life and then disappeared just as quickly.

Time travel gives Jim a headache. It can be so circular, with one thing depending on another that only existed because of the first thing...it maybe isn’t entirely surprising that it had taken him a long while to realise that _he_ was the man he'd been so desperately jealous of. That he had taught Bones everything he knows about sex. And the fact that Jim only knew half of those things because Bones had shown him...well, that was the sort of thing that made the headache pulse stronger and stronger. Temporal paradoxes are definitely on the list of things Jim hates.

“When do you leave?” Len asks.

“In the morning.”

“Then we still have tonight?”

Len sounds hopeful, but also accepting. If Jim says no, he'll wave him goodbye and get on with his life.

But Jim doesn't say no. He nods, and pulls Len to him, and this time it's not urgent fucking, or curious exploration. This time it's slow and gentle and beautiful, making love as if they have all the time in the world, instead of desperately tugging to be closer to each other as quickly as possible.

When the last shudders of pleasure stop shaking Jim's body, he lowers his head to kiss Len. And when he pulls back, he realises Len's face is wet.

“It's okay,” Len says, and it's only then that Jim realises the wetness is coming from his own eyes. He buries his face in Len's neck, and Len rubs slow, comforting circles on Jim's back.

It's ridiculous. Jim is the one abandoning Len. He's the one who should murmur soothing words in Len's ear. He's the one who should be holding Len, tracing apologies on his smooth skin. He's the one who should be wiping away Len's tears.

It makes him realise that Bones has always been stronger than Jim has given him credit for. The realisation makes his heart ache, and he doesn't know if it's just from missing Bones, or because his heart is breaking a little at having to leave Len.

Later, he tries to stay awake to memorise Len's features, softer and less worn than Bones, in the moonlight coming through the window. But he's tired, and Len's fingers are combing through his hair, and his dark eyes are keeping a quiet watch over Jim as he slips into sleep.

When he awakes, it's morning, and he's alone in the room. Jim doesn't blame Len for slipping away. Painful goodbyes have never been Bones's favourite thing, and Jim hadn’t been exactly looking forward to it himself.

There's a note beside the bed, written on the back of the napkin Len had written his room number on.

 _Wherever he is, go to him safely_ , it says. _And if you can, remember me. I'll remember you._

Jim smiles down at the familiar handwriting, then slides it into his pocket. He's about to leave, when he hesitates, picking up a pen and a scrap of paper from Len's desk.

 _I can't possibly forget_ , he writes, and signs it simply: _J._

Then he slips out the door and doesn't look back.

~~~

The transport to San Francisco is hot and stuffy but gets him there exactly when it says it will. Jim hurries to the rendezvous point, feeling out of place in civvies so close to the Starfleet campus. He almost expects one of the security teams to swoop in and intercept, but then Scotty is there, waving him over.

The place Scotty has chosen isn't too far from campus, but far enough to be out of range of their sensors, he informs Jim, voice sounding more confident than he looks. They hurry down to the basement, slipping through the doors without seeing another soul.

The device sits on a table in front of them, and Scotty looks incredibly pleased with himself. Jim claps him on the shoulder, excitement rushing through him. Now that he's away from Atlanta, all he can think about is Bones and the Enterprise and his crew, and home. God, he misses it. He can tell Scotty feels the same.

“We have to be very careful,” Scotty says. “I've recharged it, but I can only guarantee one jump in time. After that, we might not be able to recharge her. So if we go wrong...”

He lets the warning trail off. Jim stares down at it, and a thought pops into his head.

It's so obvious, that he can't believe it never occurred to him before.

“Can it go anywhere in time?” he asks. “Anywhere in space?”

Scotty furrows his brow. “Aye,” he says. “But I don't understand. I thought we were going straight back to Xralth-VII.” It's what they'd agreed, to arrive back minutes after they'd disappeared. Too early and they risked running into their past-future-whatever selves, and that could get messy. Too late and who knows what sort of diplomatic incident they'd find themselves in.

Jim had suggested it himself, but now...now he's wondering if there was a way to change the future for the better. He'd been focused on what would happen if he warned Len, or if he stayed. And those had been selfish reasons. But what if he could save people? Millions of people. Billions? What if he could save Vulcan and all of the people who'd died on Earth with the whole Khan fiasco? What if he could undo all of it?

It would be so easy. Travel back to before he was born. Warn Starfleet about Nero, ensure multiple ships would be waiting to blast him back to the pits of hell he'd crawled out of. The Kelvin wouldn't be destroyed. His father wouldn't die. He and Sam would never be sent to live with Frank. Spock would never lose his mother. Jim would join the Academy and follow in his father's footsteps, and have him witness Jim becoming Captain of the Enterprise, just like Ambassador Spock had told him. He could right the timeline, put it back on the course that it maybe always should have been on. And he'd still get Bones. He'd seen the tiniest glimpse of that in the mindmeld, although Ambassador Spock had done his best to hide much of that other life from him. He'd seen himself and Spock and Bones on the bridge of the Enterprise.

Jim licks his lips nervously, eyes darting towards the device. It would be incredibly easy, and then everything would be okay. It would be...

He doesn't even realise he's reaching out until Scotty's hand closes around his wrist.

“Hold your horses, Captain!” he says. “You don't want to be leaving me behind!” There's a jittery-ness to Scotty that lets Jim know that he is more worried than he's letting on.

Scotty jittery with energy or excitement always reassures Jim that things will be okay. Scotty jittery with nervousness and worry, all directed at Jim, makes him pause.

If Bones were here, this is the moment where he would tell Jim to think with his head, not his heart.

Jim takes a deep breath and considers the consequences. He might fix the timeline. Or he might change it further, alter it beyond recognition. He could find himself in a world without everything he knows and loves. Without his family. Without Bones. There are so many variables, too many to control. And the risk is too high. He feels a pang of regret for the father he'll never know, for the lives he knows will be lost in the years to come, for the pain he knows so many of the crew, his family, will go through. But he owes it to everyone to leave the timeline as unchanged as possible. And he hopes that what he and Scotty have done over the past week hasn't damaged it, hasn't changed things.

Jim shakes his head, then smiles at Scotty apologetically.

“Sorry,” he says. “Just eager to get home.” And it's true. He can't wait to be back in the future, with his ship and his Bones and his crew.

“You and me both, Captain” Scotty says. He holds out a PADD with the exact coordinates and time that they want to return to. “Think about this, and only this,” he instructs, and Jim does as he's told, pushing any other thoughts from his mind.

They both reach for the device.

~~~

When Jim opens his eyes, he's surrounded by chaos. He can hear voices shouting, demanding answers. One, louder than the rest, pierces through the muddle of noise.

“Where the fucking hell is Jim?”

Bones is staring daggers at one of the Xralthians, hand hovering near his phaser. Jim knows that means Bones is worried and scared and angry. He thinks about the Academy, making Bones take combat classes, and Bones insisting that he'd never fire a phaser. That doctors are there to help, not to hurt. He thinks about all of the times Bones has had to handle a weapon, and how every time it's been to save Jim or another member of the crew. He’s always wished he could save Bones from having to do that.

The Xralthian is shaking his head, denying responsibility with palms held up defensively. Elsewhere Jim can see Spock demanding answers from another Xralthian and simultaneously snapping orders at other present crew members.

Scotty heads straight for Spock, but Jim has something to do first.

“Bones!” Jim shouts.

He sees Bones freeze in surprise, then he spins around. He comes barrelling towards Jim.

“Where the hell have you been?” he demands, adding a belated, “Captain,” almost as an afterthought. “You just disappeared into thin air and Scotty was gone too and...”

He has his tricorder out before he reaches Jim, scanning him as soon as he's within arm's length, scolding him like he always does when he's anxious, but Jim folds his arms around Bones and holds him tightly.

“I've missed you,” he says, burying his nose in Bones's neck. He breathes him in, and god, he does smell so different to Len. It takes him three breaths to realise that the smell he couldn't place before flashes up one word in Jim's head: _home_.

“What the hell do you mean, you missed me?” Bones demands, trying to shove Jim away to check him over. “You've only been gone a minute or two. We were just trying to figure out what the hell happened but now you’re back.”

Jim holds on tighter, a flood of fear rushing through him as Bones continues to push him away, lecturing him about recklessness and carelessness.

All of the worries about changing the past and impacting the future that Jim had pushed aside rush to the surface again. What if he’d been wrong, that he never was Bones's mystery man? What if he'd changed the future in such a way that he and Bones aren't together now, that there is nothing between them except friendship, or worse, just crewmates?

Bones tries to squirm away again, but Jim has to know, and so he turns his head, catches Bones's lips mid-scolding. His mouth continues to move for a word or two – blasted idiot, Jim thinks he's trying to say – and then he kisses back.

It's enough to make Jim break the kiss and pull back, searching Bones's face for some recognition that they've kissed more times than either of them can count.

“Jim!” Bones says quietly, sounding almost scandalised, and the worry twists further in Jim's stomach. “I thought we agreed we weren't going to go public with this? I know we've been together for years, but we always said...”

“Fuck keeping it quiet,” Jim says even though it had been his idea not to tell anyone, his idea to hide it from the crew and not tell a single soul and right now he can't think of a single reason why. And he kisses Bones again, simply because he can. He tries to put every molecule of longing into the kiss, every ache and pain of missing him.

Someone at his elbow clears their throat, and Jim turns to smile at Spock, who is quirking an eyebrow at them.

“Captain,” he says solemnly. “Mr Scott has briefly informed me of your...adventure. I have proposed – and the Xralthians have eagerly agreed – to postpone the rest of the ceremony until we have debriefed and Dr McCoy has given you a full...examination.”

Jim grins at his first officer. He’s pleased to see Spock, and the security team, and he’ll be pleased to see the rest of the crew soon too. “That is an excellent idea, Mr Spock. Will you ask the Enterprise to beam us up?”

His arms are still around Bones, who is looking at him like he's lost his mind. And perhaps if he couldn't see Scotty across the room, looking just as relieved, Jim might wonder if he'd imagined it all, if he'd actually gone crazy.

Jim tenses automatically as he feels himself dematerialise. He waits for the sick pull he'd felt when they'd ended up in Tucumcari, but it doesn't come. And when he opens his eyes, the bright glow of the Enterprise transporter room greets him.

“Come on, Jim,” Bones says, taking him by the elbow. “Let's get you to sickbay. I'll check you over and you can tell me everything that happened.”

Jim nods, trying to decide how much to leave out of his official report, and how much to reveal to Bones.

“I'm sorry,” Bones says quietly, as they make their way down the corridors. Their shoulders are close enough to brush against each other, and yet it feels like there's too much space between them. Jim reaches out to slide the back of his hand against Bones's, and gets a curious but relieved smile in return.

Jim frowns. He thinks of all of the things that had happened, all of the things that he needs to explain and possibly apologise for, but he can't think of anything Bones did wrong. “What for?”

Bones sighs. “I was an ass earlier. I didn't mean to tease you so much. It was just a nice change, you being the jealous one.”

Jim looks at him in surprise. He knows that Bones is just talking to cover up his worry, as he so often does after away missions. And he knows he should reassure Bones, tell him he’s okay, tell him what happened. But Bones being jealous is interesting new information, and he files that away for later. He wonders who Bones has been jealous of, and when, and why, and how he can make sure Bones never feels that way again.

“That's okay,” he says before Bones can say anything else. “I deserved it. Besides, from what you've said, this guy sounds _amazing_.”

They enter sickbay and Bones bustles him towards one of the beds.

He shrugs as Jim settles himself into the spot he's been in too many times to count.

“Jamie – that was his name – wasn't _that_ amazing. He wasn't even that handsome,” Bones adds, before disappearing to get what Jim is sure will turn out to be a barrage of hyposprays.

Jim doesn't know whether to bristle or laugh at Bones's words. He wonders for a moment if Bones knows, if he's known this whole time, and been waiting for this to happen, for Jim to come back and tell him what he already knew. But when he glances at Bones's face, there isn't a hint of remembrance or recognition there.

He reaches into his pocket, feeling the paper of the napkin. It would be easy to pull it out and show it to Bones. It's what he'd intended to do, as soon as they were alone together and he could tell him everything, including the things he won’t be able to put in the official report.

Then he thinks about Bones saying Jamie wasn't that handsome. The words make his ego smart, and when Bones turns to press another scanner against his skin, Jim gives him a bland smile.

“So,” Bones prompts. “What happened then?”

“Time travel,” Jim says casually, determined to tease Bones for a bit before telling him the truth. “I'll show you the full report later, but I have to tell you about this kid I met. Very smart, incredibly demanding. Reminded me of you...”


End file.
